


Letters to You

by IceXChaos12



Series: Flowers of Sorrow [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceXChaos12/pseuds/IceXChaos12
Summary: That which I could not say to you, I will write.
Relationships: Denmark/Netherlands (Hetalia)
Series: Flowers of Sorrow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706131
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Letters to You

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I guess I made a small sequel-esque fic for this. This one's the same with Flowers, in which this is episodic. Reading Flowers of Sorrow may be important to understand this fic, but I think this can be a stand-alone as well.
> 
> I do hope that you enjoy reading this! :)

_“A mighty pain to love it is,_

_And 't is a pain that pain to miss;_

_But of all pains, the greatest pain_

_It is to love, but love in vain.”_

_― Abraham Cowley_

* * *

**_March 17, 2019_ **

_Dear Abel,_

_It’s been a while since I wrote to you. I can’t recall the last time I did. A lot of the pages are too stained for me to read. Not that reading them would do me any good. I still don’t understand what this is for. They said that this was supposed to help me, and yet this hasn’t amounted to anything good._

_Anyway, enough about that. How have you been? I hope things are going well, wherever you are._

_It gets kind of lonely when you live alone. My own voice fills the mocking silence. Darkness always follows me in a haze. Things start to make me randomly remember various memories that I want to bury. Everything is starting to become blurry._

_I can’t stand it. And yet, this was my choice._

_Did I make the right choice, Abel? Was it the best decision I could have made?..._

_Is this what they call regret, then? Is it this deep-seated anguish that eats away at your very sanity? Is it this muted voice that screams and pleads for salvation? Is it this leaden feeling in your body that makes you unable to go anywhere?_

_I wonder what you would have done, if you were in my shoes. I don’t have any doubt about you overcoming these times of trouble. I just want to know what choice you would have picked. Even if any choice I made would have led to this, I would still want to know._

_I hope that you can answer me soon._

_I love you,_

_Mathias_

* * *

A small, muted ‘thump’ resonated through the quietude as he closed his journal, along with the small ‘clack’ of a pen that was set down. Mathias gave off a despaired sigh, his hand gently caressing the cover. No matter how much he wrote, it didn’t help stem the sorrow that took root in his heart. Every time he finished writing, there was always something to fight down which left him torn and weary after. If he wasn’t fighting down tears, then it was the constant outpour of petals. For now, it was the easier of the two, which he took as a reprieve from his despair.

He placed the journal down, curling up on himself as he endeavored not to cry. Tears were slowly pooling in his eyes, a sign of defeat. It didn’t take long before he was bawling his eyes out, choking with sobs. His wailing filled the silence around him, looming above like a dark, grey cloud. Mathias cried his heart out, ending with a denouement as despaired as his will be. With red, puffy eyes and some trembling, he walked away from the journal and went to his room to hide himself from the world. 

* * *

There was a comfort he found in the way the crisp breeze brushed against his skin. Sitting on a chair, Mathias basked in the gentle radiance, letting the sun illuminate his face. Spring was coming around the corner, letting the Earth regain its vivacity and vibrance after the chilling winter. His lips curved into a minute smile, reveling in the pocket of tranquility having been given to him. His left hand rested slightly on the cover of his journal as he began to speak.

“You know, I never really understood what love is, how it starts and how one cultivates it. Love is the greatest oxymoron I know. Most describe it as something foreign but familiar, constant but fickle, generous but possessive. To me, it’s wildly different. Even if I can somehow relate to the descriptions, I feel like there isn’t a correct way to speak about the love that you have experienced, are experiencing, and will experience.”

Mathias spoke with an odd sense of contentment, as if he was not afflicted with a deadly disease that stems from the subject matter; his lips still had that gentle curve of a smile. It was as if he was talking to someone, and not just to himself. He gave the journal a slow caress, moving his hand back and forth in a comforting manner.

“I felt the need to gravitate towards you, to be beside you, to be with you. And yet, whenever I was, my whole body felt light and airy as I floated to cloud nine. You gave me the privilege to be by your side, to continue being friends when you had no such need.”

He held in his right a lone daffodil, raising it so that it too would be illuminated. The petals gently fluttered along the wind, imparting its scent to the zephyrs that blew.

“And yet I trampled on your kindness. Even when you kept trying to help, all I did was refuse it; I took the concern you gave me and threw it away. I just…”

By then, his voice was dripping with melancholy. Every word he spoke felt like a stab to his heart; felt like he was set ablaze. As the winds stirred up once more, Mathias let go of the daffodil. He watched it be carried away, subject to the mercy of the capricious, spring drafts.

“It felt painful to see you love another. As much as I wanted you to love me back, I could not bring myself to even speak out. The immense fear of seeing you be treated the same way I am triumphed over the delight of being loved by you. If you were to scorn and loathe me for my ungratefulness, I would accept it all. It would be my punishment for committing such a sin.” 

* * *

**_April 26, 2019_ **

_Dear Abel,_

_I still don’t understand why some people can be extremely cruel. Why are some so unlike their nature? Why is it that some have the intense desire to inflict pain onto others? Is the joy that one derives from such brutality so addictive?_

_Even though I have hurt you, I never found pleasure in it. It exacerbated the pain and anguish I feel now._

_Enough about me. Nothing good comes from talking about me. After all, I made this just so that I could talk to you._

_With that, I wonder how you are doing right now. I wonder how you smile at them; how you look at them as if they adorned the heavens with the multitude of stars; how your voice carries a joyous lilt every time you say their name. I know that I no longer have the right to be concerned about you, but I would still like to know if you’re happy. It’s what I keep wishing for, even if I am not the source of your happiness._

_Despite the shortness of this letter, I hope that you can answer me soon._

_I love you,_

_Mathias_

* * *

The floor was almost completely covered by flowers, peeking only through the small gaps between bloody, bloomed flowers. Mathias’ skin had taken a pale, sallow hue, specks of blood littered around said organ. Breathing was slowly becoming a tiresome ordeal, his lungs filling up with reds, yellows, whites, and purples. The disease crippled him well enough to make him unable to leave his house, for every step felt like knives were slicing the sole of his feet. Even writing in his journal turned herculean.

Mathias had resigned his fate, accepting his early demise. He no longer fought the instinct to cough out beautiful flowers (which he scorned with a fury he would inflict to himself). With a hand weakly grasping a pen, he wrote as much as he could. He wasn’t sure if he would have another chance at writing, so he just took the opportunity. If he had to cough out flowers for every word, then he would gladly pay the price. To him, it was a small one, compared to what he owed him for all his transgressions.

And so, he began writing what would become his final letter. 

* * *

**_June 3, 2019_ **

_Dear Abel,_

_I’m not sure how much time I have left. Everything just hurts, and I can no longer bear enduring the suffering I have. I feel like I won’t even live a day after my birthday._

_It’s such a cliché way to die, right? To die on your birthday makes it feel like there’s an ominous cycle that you can’t break. If that were the case, then I hope that this would be the last._

_I don’t think I could even live another life filled with anguish and despair. I already had enough in this life._

_I just want you to know that I love you from the bottom of my heart. My days with you were filled with happiness and serenity. I have come to regret my decisions wholeheartedly._

_I hope that you could forgive me._

_I love you,_

_Mathias_

* * *

At the stroke of the fatalistic hour, Death had come to take a Mathias Køhler out of the realm of the living. Standing in front of the dying man, even Death had taken pity towards him. There were flowers scattered around his feet, the petals containing various amounts of blood. He waited for the sun to rise before taking the Dane. It was a consolation he could give; to let the man see the light of day and feel warmth on his skin.

It was after the sunrise of the 5th of June that Mathias’ soul was given repose, on his 20th birthday. Death gave him two final gifts: The first was winds that would scatter the flowers around him to a certain person’s room. The second was a flower that bloomed on his very corpse, decorated with a vibrant purple and yellow. With those, he then bestowed the eponymous judgement, giving him eternal solace from the cruel world.

_“To die, to sleep -_

_To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub,_

_For in this sleep of death what dreams may come...”_

_― William Shakespeare, Hamlet_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and/or constructive criticism are welcome, but not forcefully solicited.


End file.
